Amnesia
by Lucille Lee
Summary: A.U. W.I.P. At an important point in the war, Harry Potter loses his memory. Will Voldemort win now? Sirius is alive. Rated R for Yaoi. HP:DM
1. One

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**AMNESIA**

Lucille Lee

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SUMMARY: A.U. W.I.P. At an important point in the war, Harry Potter loses his memory. Will Voldemort win now? Sirius is alive. Rated R for Yaoi. HP:DM

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**One**

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One morning he woke up and… and he didn't know where he was. Around him, four other boys were dressing – wearing some sort of uniform, he noticed. But what was he doing here?

"Oi, Harry!" he heard a red-haired boy shout, "We have Potions first thing this morning. Hurry up, mate!"

Who was Harry? Maybe it was him… yes, he believed he was Harry… Harry Potter… but what was Potions? Were they all going to drink potions or something this morning? But the most important question was – _why_ was he here?

"Harry!"

"Excuse me," he said, remembering vaguely that Uncle Vernon had said that he would skin him alive if he didn't keep a civil tongue, "but may I know who you are? What place is this?"

It was the oddest thing, he thought, when everyone suddenly fell silent and looked at him strangely.

Then suddenly, a sandy-haired boy started laughing. "Very funny, mate, now get dressed quickly if you don't want Snape murdering our house-points!"

"Snape? House-points?"

The red-haired boy who had first called out to him was staring oddly at him. "It is really not the right time to fool around, you know."

"Fool around?"

A plump, black-haired boy, who had finished dressing and was rummaging in his trunk looked up and said, "I do not think that he is joking, Ron."

The red-haired boy nodded, his eyes wide with fear and though he had only half-buttoned his shirt and not even worn his tie, he ran out.

Some time later, a rather bossy-looking girl with most wild brown hair came in along with the boy.

"Harry?" she asked gently, kneeling by him, and taking his hand in hers.

He pulled it away. "Who are you?" _Gods_! _Who_ _were_ _these_ _people_? _Where_ was he? Had he finally escaped the Dursleys or was this some sort of a _dream_?

"We've got to tell Dumbledore!"

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He had dressed up in hurry and after eating a hearty breakfast (that really shocked him – very pleasantly), he had been escorted by the girl with wild hair – whose name he learnt was Hermione – and the boy, Ron (that was a better, simpler name – he liked it better) to an office.

He was presently seated in this plush office, ogling wondrously at the people moving and talking in the portraits. _Where_ the hell was he?

"Professor Dumbledore," he heard the girl say and turned to look at the man who, he suspected, would tell him why he was here – and more important, _where_ he was.

Dumbledore seemed very… _strange_. He was old – his hair and beard were milky white – but didn't quite give _that_ impression. In fact, his blue eyes twinkled. Not that unpleasant "_twinkle_" in Uncle Vernon's eyes when he sent him to the cupboard, but a rather good-natured twinkle which Harry found calming. He forgot his anxiety and was assured that things would be fine – eventually. All he wondered for now was how much trouble he was getting into with the Dursleys.

"Miss Granger, Mr. Weasley, I think Mr. Potter would prefer talking to me alone," he said as he sat down on the plush armchair.

Ron and Hermione got up and left albeit reluctantly. He didn't mind it much. Though the boy was fine, the girl's bossiness annoyed him.

"Harry," said the old man gently, "do you know why you are here?"

"Ron said you would tell me," he said uncertainly, "The last I remember I was asleep in my cup… room," he remembered Dursleys' warning about not telling anyone that he slept in a cupboard.

"So you have no idea as to how you got here?"

"No, sir."

The old man was lost in thought for a while.

"Excuse me, sir?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"May I know when I will be going back to the Dursleys? They don't know I am here, do they? Or have they sent me here?"

"Harry, the Dursleys… well, they _did_ kind of _send_ you here. That was because your godfather has returned and agreed to take care of you."

Harry's eyes widened with surprise.

"I have a _godfather_?"

"Yes. Would you like to stay with him or go back to the Dursleys?"

"I'd stay with him," said Harry without a moment's delay. _At last_, he thought ecstatically, _I am free!_

But then… "The Dursleys never told me about my godfather," he said.

"They didn't know about him. By the way, Harry, your godfather will explain everything else to you. I think it will be good if you go and pack up your things now."

"Yes, sir."

"Do you need help find your way back?"

"No, sir. I can do that on my own."

"Well, then, good day, Harry."

"Thank-you, sir. Good-morning."

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He _knew_ he would _not_ be able to find his way back, but he hadn't wanted to appear a complete imbecile. His foolhardiness had cost him a lot. He was _lost_. And he had NO idea as to where he was.

"Potter!"

He turned to see a blonde boy (unlike Dudley, he was thin and tall – but with an expression very cold and evil) looking at him.

"What are you doing here, Potter?"

"I… I was going back to my… room," he said uncertainly, once again wishing that he hadn't said that he knew his way back.

The boy raised a thin eyebrow. "The Sorting Hat put you in Gryffindor not Slytherin, Potter!"

"What?" he said, frowning. He knew that there was _something_ strange about this place. The pictures moved and he wasn't sure… but he had thought that a staircase he had seen ended up _nowhere_.

"Very funny, Potter. Now what are you _really_ doing here?"

"I was going back…"

"I am not a fool, Potter."

Harry stared blankly at him. He was _very_ sure that he hadn't called the boy a fool.

"I will have to deduct points from Gryffindor for idiocy, I guess," he said, his lips curling in a smirk. "Ten points from Gryffindor for snooping around, too, Potter. I bet you still think that you would have become the Head Boy!"

Harry was annoyed and exasperated. "_What_ are you talking about? _What_ is Gryffindor?"

The boy was now staring wide-eyed at him. It was as if he was seeing him for the first time.

Suddenly he said, "What's my name, Potter?"

"How am I supposed to know?" said Harry, scowling slightly, "You _never_ told me."

The boy stared at him for the longest of time.

"You have lost your memory," he said slowly, the smirk returning to his face. "What's the last thing you remember?"

"My memory? There is _nothing_ wrong with my memory," said Harry indignantly. "I know perfectly well that I live at No. 4 Privet Drive with the Dursleys and I remember everything that was taught to me in school and…"

"_Great_, Potter," said the boy, leaning against the wall. "_Brilliant_! No wonder Dumbledore doesn't want more people to be recruited as Death-Eaters – without their hero, they would be defeated in no time."

Harry didn't understand him. However, as the boy mentioned Dumbledore, he remembered that he was supposed to go back to his room and pack up as he was to go and live with his uncle… no… his godfather.

But he was lost.

But he needed some help right _now_.

"Er… who are you?"

"Malfoy – Draco Malfoy," said the boy, coming up to him. "And I apologize for being impolite before."

He extended a thin white hand towards him. Harry wasn't sure that he liked this boy. He was rude and cold and there was something which was _not_ quite right about him. But he could do with a friend or two, he guessed. What if this boy knew his godfather and told him lies about him – Harry – being unfriendly and ill-mannered like Dudley did? Then he was sure that his godfather would hate him.

He accepted the hand and shivered slightly – the hand was so _cold_!

"I am Harry Potter – but I guess you know that?"

"Oh! _I_ know _you_," said the boy, his grip tightening slightly and then letting go suddenly. "I know you _very_ well. So what were you doing here?"

Harry sighed. He didn't want to appear stupid but… "I was lost. I am new around here, you see. I was supposed to go back to my room and pack up because I am going back to my godfather."

"_Godfather_?"

"Dumbledore said so."

"Oh, of course," said the boy and thought something for a while. "Do you know how he looks?"

"No… I have never met him before."

"Well, I do."

Harry was glad that he had accepted his hand then. He didn't want to make a bad beginning with someone who knew his godfather.

"What is he like?"

Before Malfoy could reply, someone came up behind him. "I think, Mr. Potter," said the dark stranger, "Professor Dumbledore asked you to pack up and not chat idly here."

"I am sorry, sir, but I was lost."

"Come with me, Potter," he said shortly. "And, Mr. Malfoy, do keep the third-years in my class in order until I return."

"Yes, sir," said Malfoy, sulkily and flashing a brief grin at Harry walked away.

"Potter!"

Harry hurriedly followed the man, his mind still on Malfoy – what was his first name, again?

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**My first try at a Harry-Draco story. As I said it will be somewhat A.U. so be prepared for that. Anyway, reviews would be greatly appreciated. Remember, I ONLY write for my readers.**

**Anyway, this story is inspired by someone called Edward Norton (not the actor ;-)). So though I am not dedicating this to you, Edward, I thought that you ought to know.**

**- Lucille Lee. **


	2. Two

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**AMNESIA**

Lucille Lee

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SUMMARY: A.U. W.I.P. At an important point in the war, Harry Potter loses his memory. Will Voldemort win now? Sirius is alive. Rated R for Yaoi. HP:DM

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**Review Responses:-**

**shroom: Thanks for reviewing. Hope this was soon enough!**

**ura-hd: No, Harry won't be like you fear it. No warnings about that. Personally, I don't like dark Harry. It just doesn't give scope for good plots. Thanks for reviewing!**

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**Two**

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The "great" "saviour of the world" Harry Potter has lost his memory.

That was the only thing that was in Draco's mind for the rest of the day. While his inattentiveness was easily 'overlooked' in Potions, McGonagall had taken five points off Slytherin. It didn't annoy him as much as it ought to. His mind still on that strange discovery.

He was determined to accost Potter before lunch.

However, it seemed that that was not to be.

He waited outside the Great Hall for full one hour but no Harry Potter came. He saw Weasley and the Mudblood send him suspicious glances as he stood leaning against the wall, but no Harry Potter.

Draco frowned as he moved towards the Defence Against the Dark Arts class. Where could Potter have gone? They hadn't expelled him, had they?

He wasn't too happy with the thought. He had planned to deliver Potter to the Dark Lord. Potter almost seemed to trust him. He had taken the hand he had refused long ago.

But how was he to put his plan into action if they expelled Potter?

"Mr. Malfoy! Pay attention!"

He frowned at the werewolf. Dumbledore was really pathetic. Did they have to learn Defence Against Dark Arts from a creature who was "Dark"? It was really very pitiable. He couldn't believe that no parents except his own and a few loyal Death-Eaters had opposed it. So what if he had almost died protecting the Ministry? That was a fault! Even from their point of view. The Ministry could never stop creating hindrances for Dumbledore until Fudge was there.

They were all so incredibly stupid! No wonder the Dark Lord was gaining strength!

As the bell rang, he glanced at the miserly teacher. Surely…

He waited for all the students to move out. As Lupin was about to go out, too, he went up to him.

"Yes, Mr. Malfoy?"

"_Professor_ Lupin," he said in his contemptuous tone, "I was wondering… wasn't Potter in this class, too?"

Lupin frowned at him. "I do not see how that concerns you, Mr. Malfoy."

"Oh, it does not concern me, _sir_. But I thought that it would concern… someone else. I was merely worried, you see," he said in his cold drawl and then smirking coldly, went out. Let them know that he knew. It wasn't very clever of him, but he wanted to prove himself. He wanted them to know that he wasn't such an ignorant git as they all thought that he was.

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"Draco!"

He turned and almost groaned. That girl was a… pest!

He put on his usual cold smile. "Pansy." He almost winced as she caught his hand in her own.

"I overheard something, you know. Something that will interest you a lot."

Praying that it wasn't some girly gossip, he asked, "What?"

"Potter got seriously ill – he has been sent to St. Mungo's," she said happily.

So that is the excuse they have invented, he thought. Wait till I tell this to the Dark Lord in the next meeting.

"Draco, where are we going?"

Feeling the immediate need to move away from her, he pulled his arm away. "I think I will go take a bath, Pansy."

"Want me to come?"

"No," he said, more sharply than he meant to. "I… I want to think about something."

She went off in an angry huff, but he didn't bother. He knew that he would have to marry her in spite of his tantrums. She would bring in a huge dowry. Plus, her father was rising in the Dark Lord's esteem.

He supposed those were about the only reasons he tolerated her.

Oh yes, there was also the fact that his dear father would hex him to death if he knew… sometimes he wished that he did know… it would be good to see the colour disappear from his face. Not that his face had much colour to begin with.

He ignored the fact that he was an exact replica of the man he so despised.

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"You sent for me, Professor?"

"Draco. Sit down."

Now Snape was a man he was sure that he didn't hate – in spite of his ugly face and manner. He hadn't really viewed Snape as a 'bat' or a 'vampire'. Not when Snape was the only man who didn't order him about. Unlike his father. Unlike his mother. Unlike the Dark Lord. The best part of Snape was that Snape let him do what he wanted – even in his class. He hated it but he let him. Draco was almost grateful.

Draco had never been scared of Snape – not even when he was a toddler and Pansy (he hated how Pansy was in his every childhood memory) would start crying whenever she saw him.

In fact, Draco looked up to the dark man. Not in an I-want-to-be-like-you way, but in an I-will-give-an-ear-to-what-you-have-to-say way. And he did. But sometimes, he couldn't understand the man. He talked strange things. He talked about how Darkness wasn't the only way of life… he talked about how wrong choices could make you regret for the rest of your life… he talked about how you needed to think on your own and not be influenced…

Draco wasn't sure that he understood him. It was all very… strange. He felt that he got the message – deep down somewhere… and yet his brain wasn't processing it. It was all very odd. That was an aspect of Snape which was always growing.

Sometimes he thought he understood Snape… but he wasn't sure. It was all very confusing, so he didn't think about it much.

"So what did you want to talk to me about, Professor?"

"I will be blunt, Draco," he said, not looking at him, but at the parchment on his desk.

"Professor?"

He looked him straight in the eyes. "Have you taken the Dark Mark, Draco?"

Draco blinked. Wasn't Snape a Death-Eater? How come he did not know?

"I do not understand you, Professor."

"You understand me better than you want to," said Snape dryly. "But you are scared. You are scared that I will turn out to be someone I am not. You are scared that you will be disappointed in me."

"I will not…"

"You are scared that you will find out that I am like everyone else… trying to force you into things that I should not."

Draco stood up. That man had got to be using Legilimency on him!

"I don't know what you are talking about, Professor," he said, trying hard to convince himself of his ignorance.

"Do not insult your intelligence, Draco – and mine. I know you. I have known you since your birth. In fact, I was the one who gave you that name."

"What?"

"Yes, Draco. I have watched you grow up. I have watched your tantrums and anger and laughter. Do not offend both our feelings by saying that you have never known that I know you. You are not merely some student."

Draco sat down. He wasn't sure that he was listening to… what he was saying… he had never had the courage to even admit to himself his suspicions… and now Snape was openly claiming them.

"You knew it all along," said Snape and then fell silent. But he kept his eyes on him.

Draco ran his fingers through his immaculately gelled hair. "But I thought that I was wrong."

"I won't call you intelligent but I know that you rank higher in that field than Crabbe and Goyle," said Snape wryly.

"I thought…"

"You did not."

"I tried to. But it was too hard. You are lying, aren't you?"

Snape stared hard at him. "Do you think I am lying, Draco?"

Draco was mesmerized by the blackness of his eyes. But they weren't completely black. His image was reflected in them.

"Unfortunately, you are not," he said, his hands balling into fists. "You aren't lying now. But you have been lying all along, haven't you?"

"Have I?"

"Yes, you have," said Draco venomously, standing up on his slightly trembling legs. "You made me think that I could trust you!"

"Which you can."

"I can't! I can't trust a traitor! What kind of a Slytherin are you? You betrayed the Dark Lord!" he hissed angrily.

"I did not betray the Dark Lord," spit out Snape. "He betrayed me. He killed the two people I had in the name of family. He would have gladly sacrificed me – the one who brew him the darkest and toughest potions and put his life into it – he would have sacrificed me to suit his purpose!"

"That is what Death-Eaters are meant for!"

"Is that so? Is that what you are meant for? Being treated like a dog? Well, you ought to have told me that before, Draco. I would have treated you like one, too!"

Draco glared at him for the longest of time.

Then without a word, he went out.

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**AUTHOR'S NOTE: since Draco's stand isn't very well depicted in the books because the books have Harry's POV, I wanted to sort of explain where Draco stands right now. So I devoted this whole chapter to it. I can only began Draco-Harry interaction when I clear their positions in my A.U. fic.**

**Hope you weren't bored, though. **

**- Lucille.**

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